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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27349282">Nasty Work Attracts Nasty Things</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MythicalPythium/pseuds/MythicalPythium'>MythicalPythium</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magnus Archives (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>AND YALL GET TO DEAL WITH THAT, Baby Author's first fanfic they actually plan on updating on a schedule, Elias is an asshole per usual, Fuck it it updates when I wanna write for it, Fucked in what ways? I think you already know, He/It Pronouns for Michael, Idk how to tag ;/, Michael Being Michael, NO BETA READING I DO THIS SHIT AT 12 AT NIGHT AND POST WHATEVER I MAKE, No exact pronouns for reader uwu but expect they/them to be used, Other, Reader gets royally fucked just for working in the Archives</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 11:28:55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,071</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27349282</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MythicalPythium/pseuds/MythicalPythium</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Working for the Institute in of its self makes one a target automatically. Working in the archives? It's practically a death wish, and not one you're warned about when you get hired practically on the spot by one Elias Bouchard. While you work on building relationships with seemingly distant co-workers, you attract the attention of an entity you'd never expected to have been real, though you really should have considering your new job. </p><p>Essentially Michael decides to dick around with you, bringing back the past that involved both of you.</p><p>__ON HIATUS__</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Michael | The Distortion (The Magnus Archives)/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>54</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The Illusion of Youth</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>So basically I'm baby and am not all too sure of whether or not the characters will be OOC, and if they are I am so god damn sorry. PLEASE give me advice and feedback on what you might think will make the story more interesting, or ways to 'fix' it.</p>
    </blockquote><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>I'm so sorry, this drags on without giving too much detail but I still managed to make it so damn short :_: my writing will get better one day. One day...</p><p>No beta we die like Leitner... WAIT NO I DON'T WANT TO BE BEATEN TO DEATH-</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Spiral had such interesting ways of scoping out potential avatars. One could say it had a kaleidoscope of ways, but even that was too defining. With you, it chose to be your imaginary friend during your childhood. A shadow on whatever surface you could easily see it on, constantly following you no matter where you went but never visible to anyone but you. No matter how many times you explained in your childlike way to your parents of how you never truly were alone because “Mr. Wiggly” was always there. And The Spiral was surveying you at all times of the day. You weren't even afraid of the dark as a child, content with the knowledge that your ever distorting friend was somewhere in your room as you slumbered, keeping away the other things that may have preyed upon you.  </p><p>The trouble with having a manifestation of a fear as your childhood imaginary friend was that, once you got old enough, you were expected to no longer believe that your imaginary friend was real. You understood this deeply, and you dreaded the inevitable day that your mother sat you down and explained that you really shouldn’t have make-up shadow friends at age twelve. You’d thrown a fit about it, much to the great disappointment of your parents and locked yourself in your room for a straight week, only coming out for school only to slam your door behind you once you’d arrived home, rushing in like death itself was at your heels. Much changed during your life, but the one constant was Mr. Wiggly. Though at this point you’d gotten suspicious at the fact that you most certainly still had an imaginary friend and had thought that perhaps such a childish name would’ve offended the ever vigilant shadow that tailed you daily and nightly. So, you’d named it Distorted. Once you’d done that though, your interactions with The Spiral grew dramatically darker. The damned thing started whispering to you after years of silence. You’d freaked out the first time, demanding that your parents check your room in case some random murderer had snuck into your house and was trying to spook you before killing you. They found nothing, of course they wouldn’t, The Spiral wouldn’t be doing a very good job of slowly driving its victim insane now would it? Though that was the thing, you weren't a prey item for it but it also hadn’t marked you yet. It made no move to abduct you and change you into an avatar so you could feed it. No, it stayed there on your walls and ceiling, even under your bed and whispered gently to you about how you would be so much stronger one day, how your parents would regret treating you like a lunatic that needed to be hopped up on uncountable drugs. </p><p>That was another unfortunate aspect of the whole ordeal. Your mother and father had murmured darkly to each other in the night, talking of how it was unhealthy for you to still be so attached to something that shouldn't exist. The Spiral relayed these things to you, but not soon enough before your parents dragged you off to multiple psychiatrists who pondered over why you acted so harshly when you were asked as to why you still acted so childish. You hated that word, it was an insult and you knew that full well when it exited someone’s mouth with barely hidden sneers of disgust, especially from your classmates who’d bully you constantly about the things you scribbled in your notebook. Those scribbles were mostly of your interpretation of The Spiral as it appeared to you, but even you couldn’t exactly pinpoint how it looked as it constantly shifted to something different even while you looked at it. Other artworks of yours were of fractals. Large ones, miniscule ones, of all different shapes and color but always spiraling down into the smallest pinpoint that the human eye could see, continue to spin off into places the human mind couldn't even begin to comprehend. </p><p>You’d never had friends in your childhood, most of the others consider you far too ‘creepy’ to even bother being nice to, such is the cruelty of school. Teachers never care about what happens with the students, and students practically have wars between their little clicks. In your mind, all you needed was that incomprehensible shifting shape that never left you alone. By age twenty you were heavily invested in looking things up on the paranormal and unusual sightings websites that littered the internet and had hundreds of blogs about, though none of them ever answered your questions. You made money by doing musical commissions, strangers on the internet paying you odd sums for you to make music on your Baldwin Encore organ. Music was the one thing you were truly passionate about, though of course it never got you anywhere. You moved out of your family home once you were eighteen, leaving American and heading straight for London. At this time, that shadow had left. You hadn't seen it since you started taking medication for your ADHD when you hit fifteen and your parents had finally gotten you to the doctor about it. ADHD, as far you knew, didn’t mess with your brain so much as to produce hallucinations that stuck with you for years. Maybe you had some weird illness and the medication helped with it, who knew, but that was in the past and at this very moment, you were standing in front of The Magnus Institute, a perfect place for you. </p><p>Upon entering, you got the unshakable feeling that something was watching you. Not like how that accursed shadow felt, its nonexistent eyes digging into you knowingly, you knew to some extent what had been watching you then but this feeling was deeper, like whatever was watching you knew every last secret your mind and body could possibly spill out. It was unnerving to say the least, but you needed a new job if you had any hope of keeping the small house you’d bought that still managed to be better than the dingy apartment buildings of a smaller city in northern Illinois you’d inhabited unhappily. You could only hope that whatever was keeping an eye on you was just nervousness as you were called into Elias Bouchard’s office for your interview.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2: Confusion Ensues After Realization</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>I'd like you all to know that this chapter's word count came out to 1,666 and I find that very funny.</p><p>Chapters should become longer the more this goes on, I'm just not used to writing long things besides essays we were all forced to do for school :/ Also not too good at writing about character's that aren't mine, so please if character's seem OOC tell me and advise me on how to make them act more canon :&lt;</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You were hired practically right on the spot. Elias had skimmed over your resume, eyes flicking between you and the paper. His desk was immaculate, clean and organized unlike the state of a few others you’d seen in the Institute. You had the feeling the owners of said desks got told off by him though. He’d asked you the basic questions just like any employer; what could you bring to the Institute? What brought about your interest in this field? Where did you see yourself in the next five years? The same boring questions you’d answered time and time again whenever you skipped between jobs to keep yourself afloat while in America. The interview was almost alarmingly short, it hadn't even lasted fifteen minutes and he’d just said you were hired, right then and there. The surprise was immense, nearly making you speechless, but your joy won over and you’d stammered out thank you’s while sprinkling in how you’ll do your best not to disappoint. Though, that’s where the pleasantries ended as he nodded and said that he most certainly hoped you wouldn’t then mumbled under his breath. You only heard something about keeping an eye on something? Before you could question him he’d ushered you out of his office and told you you started tomorrow. His expression was that of someone thinking a bit too hard, pondering something that stumped them. You didn’t want to bother him with questions as you didn’t want to ruin his outlook on you. Questions could come later, you’d finally landed a job you could see yourself staying with for more than three months. </p><p>You practically skipped out of the Institute, face split wide with a grin of pure joy. This was oddly the most happy you had been in so many years, you probably looked like a lunatic to the other employees and visitors you’d passed but you were just so damn pleased with yourself. And you planned to celebrate. Well, as much as your budget could allow. Your pockets never held more than a hundred dollars at a time, and that was when you’d been able to afford to be a little bit lenient with your spending. Though, you now held your new home’s currency in your bank account. Converting your life’s savings into pounds wasn’t all that interesting but at least you could now spend it properly here. </p><p>The walk to the nearby liquor store had passed in blur, you were still hyped up on the feeling of being hired without trouble or wait. You were practically the only one with energy in the store, the store clerk numbly scrolled through their social media feed, well you assumed that’s what they were on, and the other customers all were older people who clearly only drank to drown their pain and sorrows. You’d feel bad if you weren’t so focused on making your day better with your favorite drink that you quickly had rung up by the clerk, snatching it lightning quick after paying and almost running home to relax. Your trip back home wasn’t bad, just a little bit boring. The distinct sounds of dense human activity surrounded you just like any other city, distant neighbors arguing with each other, cars honking as their drivers tried to hurry home, a door creaking open slowly somewhere, just normal things that you experienced daily. When your house came into view you eagerly sped up, not wanting to be outside for much longer.</p><p>A black shape greeted you at the door, loudly meowing at you for attention. Vanta, your black cat with stunningly beautiful bright green eyes that took in everything all at once, insistently yelled at you. You never knew with this cat, you’d just gotten him when you had first moved in. The emptiness of being alone in your abode and previous ones left you drained, it felt right to have a pet fill in that suffocating feeling of loneliness. Vanta once again pawed at you, rubbing himself against you as you made yourself at home. Coat going on the hanger, shoes left on the doormat, keys left in the bowl right next to the door and finally your chosen liquor being placed on the table as you tried to figure out what your cat demanded of you. Just as you expected, he’d only wanted to be petted in greeting, running off as soon as he grew bored of you rubbing his ears and petting along his back, teasing him by scratching the junction of his tail and body(something he disliked but didn’t exactly hate, only giving annoyed huffs whenever you did so). His form disappeared into the hallway of your living room, the house turning silent once more when you could no longer hear the jingle of the bell on his collar. </p><p>Your attention turned to the bottle of liquor, a slight hum escaping you as you contemplated on what to pair with it. All you had was left overs from local restaurants, some you wouldn't trust to not give you a stomach ache or food poisoning. So, you chose the wonderful combo of simply putting it into a cup and putting on your favorite show at the current time, feeling you might as well binge it seeing as you had little else to do at the moment. You could write more pieces to play on your Baldwin Encore of course, but now that it wasn't your primary source of income commissions could be put on hold for longer without bringing about the ire of your customers. The click of your television turning on sounded through the living room and you sipped your drink, the splash of it bringing a sigh out of you. It’s been quite a while since you’ve fully relaxed, and while a lot of people considered alcohol to be cheating in this regard you couldn’t care less. There was no one to judge you about this in the comfort of your home and you were going to take full advantage of it.</p><p> </p><p>You must have passed out during the season finale of your show because when you woke up the night sky was in full and some random show you weren’t familiar with was playing on your television. Some shitty poorly produced horror show was playing, the characters were lost in a seemingly endless hallway. You grimaced at the terrible acting of the female actor screeching in far too high of a pitch for your throbbing headache to enjoy. You turned off the television and got up, groggily filling up Vanta’s food and water bowls before heading to the bathroom to complete your nightly ritual. Fumbling for your toothbrush you quickly put toothpaste on it and proceeded with cleaning your teeth. Movement from the hallway not even a minute later caught your attention, in your ailed state of mind you quickly chalked it up to being Vanta. What else would it be? You spit out the mixture of spit and foamed up toothpaste and washed out your mouth, flicking off the lights in the bathroom and headed off to bed. </p><p>The only reason you didn’t open the new door was because a cat that was not Vanta was sitting in front of it. It looked like him. It had his collar, his same black fur and his adorable little face, even his brilliant eyes, but you could not possibly stress enough how this was not your cat. Panicked confusion started to set into your head as you began to notice the small details that gave you a nauseating feeling of uncanny valley. His paws were too big for his body, his whiskers seemed to be suggestions of a form as they kept phasing in and out of your vision, and he just. Kept. Staring. Vanta never sat still this long, but just as suddenly as you began listing these wrong features in your head the cat got up and entered the door that wasn’t open the last you saw it. It was blaringly bright yellow even though it was cast in just as much darkness as the rest of the hallway. Its black handle practically blended into the shadows, you wouldn’t have thought it even had one if light from your living room didn’t glint off of it. It was, inviting somehow, but you hated the color yellow. Despised it even, it felt far too cheerful for your taste and was just annoying to look at it. Despite this, your hand started to reach for the handle.</p><p>Vanta’s tired meow snapped you out of this state. Blearily blinking, you looked behind you to see your actual cat standing at the end of the hallway, visible crumbles of his food littered on the front of his face. You squinted at him just to make sure it was him, but remembering the situation you whipped your head back to where the door was. Or, had been. Where that blindingly bright yellow door with its black handle had been was now just wall. Plain, perfectly normal wall. You nervously brought the hand you had almost touched the door with to your chest, holding it with your other arm. Swallowing thickly you went to your room, double checking to make sure it was actually the right door before entering. Everything was as you’d left it, nothing felt or looked off so you slowly shuffled under your covers and Vanta jumped onto it to join you, curling up into the nook your back made as you laid on your side and curled in on yourself. What you had just experienced was distressing for absolute certain. You’d gone through a lot in your life, but none of your childhood hallucinations or alcohol induced states had made such a real feeling and off putting experience. </p><p>It took you a while to fall asleep, put eventually you and Vanta slept calmly on your bed. Somewhere in your house, a door creaked open slowly and deliberately.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Comments and advise are welcomed and encouraged! I've never actually written more than like, 3 chapters for any other of my fanfics and I plan on making this a full length one so the more help the better!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Small update</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hello everyone~ unfortunately weekly updates simply aren't giving me enough time to thoroughly plan out each chapter as I have a bunch of other stuff going on almost constantly so chapters will now be released bi-weekly! This should hopefully allow for better overall writing,plot, and overall storyline.</p>
<p>This schedule will be starting NEXT Wednesday with me releasing the next chapter, I've got family coming over this week so sadly I'm stuck with cleaning the whole house :/</p>
<p>Thank you all for reading what I've got so far and to those four of you who've commented , I love you you're my favorite people.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. And Thrust Unto Thee- an un-needed amount of extra work cause Elias is a lil bitch</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Another promotion for our dear reader and some A+ words from Tim.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Apologies for the late update, I was dragged into cleaning out our lovely old and decrepit shed.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When you came into work the day after another body was discovered in The Magnus Archives along with the Head Archivist no where to be found, tensions were high. An oppressive feeling clung to you as you entered the archives, opening the door a bit too fast and accidently scaring Martin as he'd completely forgotten you were the new hire who was supposed to be coming in today. Sasha was no where to be found, presumed dead by everyone or as an accomplice with Jonathan Sims. Tim didn't even glance at you, seemingly stuck in his own world of issues and thoughts. Elias Bouchard was most likely in his office, Martin told you as he led you to where you would be working. A desk just like the others had around you, empty and clean. Clearly it had not seen use in a long while, Martin told you he tried to keep it as non-dusty as he could, his words not yours, the dust just seemed to find its way back within the hour. You reassured him that it was fine, you hadn't expected it to be perfect. After about five minutes of simply trying to tell him that, truly, it was fine, Elias entered the archives. Both Tim and Martin went silent as Elias approached you, Martin actually scooting a little bit away as he waited for Elias to be done with you. </p><p>"Good to see you're punctual with arriving to work, but unfortunately I've got something of rather great importance to discuss with you, in private." He side eyed Martin, who promptly muttered something alongside an 'oh! sorry..'  and went to his own desk, glancing at you sadly but your attention was brought back to Elias as he motioned his right hand to the doors behind him.: If you'd please come with me to my office." He said simply before turning around and walking off, fully expecting you to be behind him. And you were, you'd quickly followed in step behind him once Elias had turned around. You only stopped to look back at Tim and Martin, but the two were busy with their own work. A tiny sigh escaped you, you'd really wanted to talk more with Martin, he seemed lonely...</p><p> </p><p>   Elias Bouchard's office was just as you expected. Lavish, but simple. Not too much cluttered the room but it was clear he had excellent taste in décor and furnishing. You, however, didn't have the slightest clue as to what materials and er..brands? Companies? His furnishing came from, but it all looked wonderfully put together with nothing clashing together in ugly colors or textures. You didn't have much time to peruse his office and he asked you to sit down. His body posture was not intimidating, and honestly his face looked rather apologetic. Right off the bat you assumed it had something to do with the prior day's events, perhaps he would just informing you of what happened in full? Hopefully.</p><p>"As I'm sure you're well aware, a rather horrible thing happened yesterday afternoon in the archives here. With Jonathan Sims, our Head Archivist, assumingly on the run and one of his assistants missing alongside him we're rather short on staff now. Unfortunately, the spot of Head Archivist is one I hate having vacant for too long. Tim and Martin are in far too much shock, amongst other emotions, to step up to the plate. They deserve a break if I'll be honest, after all that's happened in such a short amount of time. </p><p>   You were unsure about why your bosses' boss...wait, was Elias just your normal boss now that the Head Archivist was gone?  Huh, you guessed so. However, this still made little sense, and so you asked about the whole situation," Ehmn, Mr. Bouchar-" He held out his hand to interrupt you, "just Elias, please. I rather unlike being referred to as Mr. Bouchard." Weird, but all right. You assumed he didn't want to be confused with another family member or something, some people were just like that. "All right, but I don't understand why exactly you're telling me this?" The confusion was palpable from you, your brows creased in thought. </p><p>"Ah, I didn't want to get right to the point and worry you too much. You're to temporarily replace Jonathan Sims as the Head Archivist, at least until he returns. Which I will have you know won't be too long, he doesn't have a cruel bone in his body, I highly doubt he was behind the murder or even relatively involved. Just until everything get's sorted out I assure you, and I do profusely apologize to spring this on you at such short notice. The reason why I'd mentioned Tim and Martin earlier pertains to your promotion, they weren't fit for it. However I've seen some of your blogs and research, you seem very tidy as well as willing to work for extended periods of time which I have no doubt you will be put under with all this."</p><p>   You blinked at him repeatedly. This kind of this has to be extremely rare, for someone to get two promotions in less than two days. You weren't even originally hired for the archives, you just wanted a job at the institute and had applied for librarian assistant. Then Elias had bumped you up to where you were previously, and now Head Archivist just because the current one was missing. To say it was overwhelming would be like saying being burnt alive tickled. You were very close to having a nervous breakdown, and Elias could see this. </p><p>"Ah..it seems I've still gone and made your worry. Don't fear, your actual work as Head Archivist won't start until tomorrow, I'm not so cruel as to thrust you straight into that kind of work. For now I just want you to socialize with Martin, and Tim if he's up for it. Familiarize yourself with the layout of the Archives, those kinds of things." He leaned back, you didn't remember him leaning forward to rest his elbows on the desk below as he steepled his fingers together. "You're free to go do that now, please try not to worry about the new position so much, Jon cleared away a fair amount of the false statements that have been handed to us over the years." You nodded sharply and rose to get up, turning around and walking to the door. Before you could turn the handle, Elias spoke up again.</p><p>"Oh, and if a police officer with the name of Daisy happens to show up, do not answer her questions and come get me immediately.  She shouldn't be meddling this much with our affairs, especially since you weren't even at the Archives yesterday." Another nod from you, and you were out the door and heading back down to the Archives to do just what Elias had suggested. Elias stayed in his office, his expression now grim with thought. He whispered to himself darkly as he sat reclined in his chair, eyes on the door you exited,"keep your allies close, and possible enemies closer.."</p><p> </p><p>   The day went by quicker than you'd have liked. You attempted to talk with Tim but he just rudely shut down any conversation you tried to have, but Martin seemed plenty happy to have someone else to talk to, though he did try to get Tim in on the conversations as well. It was almost time to leave for Tim and Martin, though you assumed your work would end when you wanted it to, at least when you officially started as Head Archivist tomorrow. That didn't mean you wanted to stay up late tonight though, you had no true work to do so you planned on leaving with Tim and Martin. Martin knocked on your desk to get your attention, and when you looked up he spoke, "Hey uh, time to go aha. That is if you still plan on clocking out with us?" He asked, though Tim quickly cut in, "Oh leave them Martin, they can handle things on their own." To this Martin gave an annoyed glance at Tim, who was already leaving without the two of you.</p><p>Martin sighed and apologized, "I'm sorry for Tim it's..just been a really hard few days. I think he's shutting everyone out, doesn't want to get close to anyone that he could lose. He was rather close with Sasha, at least I think he was? I don't know but, don't take his words too closely to heart all right?" He ended with a smile, it lacked the feeling of reassurance you felt he was trying to give you, his own emotions bleeding through in tiny ways. He never really made eye contact with you. You gathered what few things you had brought with you that day and walked alongside Martin to the exit. Before you reached it, however, Martin asked you something else.</p><p>"Oh! Before I forget uh, would it be all right if I asked what exactly Elias had..spoken to you about? I guessed it was to tell you what happened yesterday, make sure you didn't want to run off?" He looked at you hopefully, your random meeting with Elias seemed to have bugged him a bit. Or maybe he was just as curious to learn everything there was as you were.</p><p>"Ah, he, actually gave me a promotion? I think? He, said I was going to replace Jon until he came back. So eh, I guess I'm your new boss." Martin looked at you slack jawed, confusion in his eyes. Tim, however, stormed over to you but his anger was definitely not directed at you. "What did you just say?" You repeated easily that, you were now the new Head Archivist for the Magnus Institute until the previous one returned. Tim was fuming, "Great. Just great. First, Elias hires someone new and drags them into this hot mess without any need to. We didn't NEED another archivist back then! THEN that whole thing with the tunnels and, and the body and Jon an-" His fists are clenched so much almost his entire hand is white. Martin manages to calm him down, but just barely. Tim actually almost ran over to Elias' office to confront him but you had stopped him there, not wanting to make another mess for someone to clean up. Martin sat all three of you down at a café not too far from the Institute so you could all have a somewhat 'proper' chat about what Tim was going on about. </p><p>   It was hard to fully piece everything together, but at the end you managed to rephrase it as, "so basically what you're telling me is that all the things that go bump in the night that I've so diligently investigated and came up with nothing are all real and even more dangerous than I thought? And that the Institute seems to be a hot spot for all these things,  with none of you being able to quit and leave?" </p><p>"Yeah, that's basically it, "Tim replied rather in a rather snarky tone," we're all stuck at that dusty old place until we all die. I've tried quitting, I can never go through with even putting my pen on the form. It's dumb, and horrible and I feel like we're just bait at this point. What bothers me the most is that Elias is completely un-phased by any of this, hell he looked happy when he walked out after Officer Daisy left! Sick bastard, he's probably enjoying all of this.." You hummed in thought, not quite sure what to say to everything you just heard.  It seemed easily possible, if there weren't at least some things that were true experiences, then the only horror stories to exist were with animals and people. But that didn't seem right, there were far too many myths, legends, and 'fairy tales' that all shared similarities but were from completely different sides of the world for it all to be just a big coincidence. So, you believed them and told them so. Martin looked relieved, but Tim wasn't.</p><p>"Listen, don't you go acting like Elias and enjoying this turmoil. I don't think I could handle being co-workers if you were. Curiosity killed the cat, or whatever the saying is. You're stuck just like we are." To this you huffed and leaned back in the booth chair you were sat in, almost spilling your soda if you hadn't moved your hand out of the way in time, "And satisfaction brought it back. Don't worry I won't go running off at every chance to try and figure out whether vampires are real or not by chucking myself at them. 'm not stupid, but I do like to figure things out. I assume that's why we all got hired there? At least, probably. I don't know anything about you two so I won't assume. " You said calmly, Tim just looked away, clearly done with trying to give you his warnings and Martin just smiled softly at you when you looked at him, going back to eating his ordered food. "Well, if there's nothing else you two would like to talk about I'm gunna head on back home. I got a cat that gets antsy if I don't feed him at eight on the dot." You get up to leave, waving goodbye to Martin and Tim, then you're out another door</p>
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